Broken Trails, Weeping Stars
by Lothynagul
Summary: Lost in a hostile new world, with unknown predators, Vraston has to find a way to salvage a mission gone wrong. AU.


**Broken Trails, Weeping Stars {LOST}**  
_What…? How did…_

**"Ugh…."** The soft noise of disgust and pain split the humid air in a gust. It came from a young man, currently enjoying the lovely, comforting ease and hospitality of the floor of a forest in some relatively unknown, and certainly unexplored, area of Oren. Wincing, he sat up, green eyes sharpening instantly as he took in the situation. A calloused, slim hand ran over his hair, pulling a myriad of leaves, twigs, and Faranth knew what else from the carefully braided golden brown strands. **"Faranth save me… What happened?** Soft and confused the voice wasn't yet panicking, merely assessing. As the young man rose with a groan, he brushed off the sturdy leather pants, grumbling that they at least didn't show the stains, and wincing as his fingers hit tender areas. Shaking out his tunic, Vraston sighed. First things first, he needed to figure out what had happened. Forest? Check. That was about all that was in the immediate area, though there were plenty of large tracks and damaged brush around. He frowned, running over events in his head.

First, it was obvious-something had gone wrong. They'd been planning an excursion into the forest for several weeks now, He, and several other candidates, and scientists. Ever since the disaster when a suddenly ended journal turned up sans its writer, there had been almost no explorations allowed. Now, however, with hatching near, and a need for building supplies and more knowledge of the planet, along with hopes for more edible foods and a need to capture some of the wild equines, they had authorized an expedition. It was supposed to have been a fairly straight-forward trek to an area where they knew a herd of wild equines lived, studying the flora and fauna along the way. Once there, Vraston and the others were to gather any foals they could, along with a couple older equines if chance permitted, and keep track of events. After a week, they'd return with a string of new information and new mounts to train.

He'd been up before dawn's first light that morning, going over the supplies and gear that they'd needed for the team, as well as making a final check of their mounts. He'd changed the team's horses, taking Cheska, his beauty of a stallion, instead of the sturdier mare. The mare had been favoring a tendon that had flamed overnight, probably due to knocking it in her sleep, and had been out for recovery, and he wanted to season Cheska as well. The rest of the lineup change had included the addition of two more horses, a mare and gleding, as pack animals. They were big, sturdy horses, crossed from the Pernese stock and wild Orenian stock, and were perfectly suited to a long trek. He'd made the change because he knew they'd bring back samples, and in case of an emergency, he and Rion had agreed-they had to be lightly weighted, to move fast.

Thus, two more pack animals, and lightening the load on the others. That done, he'd tacked the mounts and loaded them himself as people arrived, going over everything twice again to make certain nothing was loose, ill packed, or ill fitted-mistakes here, in a potentially hostile environment, could be fatal. They could afford no mistakes. As the group gathered, Vraston led them to and introduced their mounts, helping them stow the small amount of personal last minute baggage, while conferring with Carmen Lee and Rion about contingency plans. Once the group had gathered, they'd waved, and he'd led them out into the woods.,While it was a serious mission, and spirits were high, everyone was still groggy, waking slowly, and eventually they'd settled into an easy ride.  
Then… What? He frowned, and glanced about, suddenly. Then… about midday, something had happened, and he still didn't know what. The horses had panicked, and he'd seen the string of pack horses flee despite the efforts of the group, and had seen everyone lose their seats. Even Cheska, his own mount, and the sturdiest of mares, given to the inexperienced rider of the group, had panicked. They'd been thrown, and the last thing he'd seen was Cheska screaming and bolting back to base. That, of course, was after the animals had run them Faranth knew how far in a random direction. He had no doubt the horses would make it back to base, and someone would come looking-but that was not something to count on either.

The signs of their passage were remarkably confused, and he couldn't even see anyone in the group he'd led out this morning, meaning they had to have been thrown at various points. **"Festering egg-bound idiot equines!"** Vraston snapped, and winced. That wouldn't help any. He had to find the group, and make certain they were all accounted for-hopefully, he prayed to Faranth, all alive. He groaned aloud again as a new problem came to light in that instant-with the horses gone, so were there supplies.

Food. Camping gear. Journals. Weapons-save for a few they carried personally. The horses as transport. The med kits.

He grimaced, and ran a hand through his hair again. What could have caused even the most placid of mounts to panic so suddenly, and bolt through _unknown_ territory, throwing their riders and fleeing? He ran over the list of creatures he knew of. Korvo's were something, he knew, but even the wildest of the horses he'd trained would never bolt like that away from one. He frowned, something in his memory clamoring for attention. As the tidbit surfaced, he paled, before steeling himself. Even if he suspected, he had to keep it together, find the group, and asses the situation. They'd likely have to build a shelter for a day or two-he knew he'd heard snapping bones from the one girl he saw fall somewhere near him. And they'd have to figure out, fast, what plants were edible and medicinal. At least they knew some already-he just prayed it was enough. _Even if it is what caused that scientists team before to vanish… I've got to find them._

Before looking for them, however, Vraston ran a quick check of his own injuries. Luckily, he'd hit a fairly soft cushion of leaves and the like, and so, no broken bones. Knocked out for a while-by the suns position, he'd been out half an hour or so, but no broken bones. A laceration to his bicep, not as bad as it could be, more scratches in his mind, and a heavy bruise on the hip he'd landed on first. He could move. Could hunt, and find them. His sword and dagger lay on his hips, well, the sword at least. The dagger he had to dig for before he could find it, clean it, and sheathe it. Still, some weaponry. Better than nothing. Taking a moment further, Vraston cut a small strip from his tunic to bind the wound on his arm, then sighed. Shaking his head-at least he had a shirt under it- he removed the rest of the bright blue fabric, and cut a banner to leave on a tree-his way of saying, stay here if you find this.

That done, the young man sighed. Noise could call whatever had spooked the horses-but he'd best see if anyone from the team had fallen near him. Moving in a slow circle that spiraled out carefully, the young man searched, wary of the sun's passage in the sky. 


End file.
